After a BLT, Ed knows that he’s out of stuff to do to keep him away from the house. The fact of his leaving Alice alone on this day doesn’t escape him, and he takes the long way home with a guilty procrastination. It’s just that this particular day, even more than the other anniversary, is the hardest on her, and his inability to make it better feels like a failing. Every time he’s tried to distract her, or reason with her, or change Alice’s focus on this day, his efforts have been met with anger and accusation and no relief for either of them. There have been years, especially the first two or three, when neither of them spoke to the other because there were only terrible words to say.

Ed knows he is avoiding the inevitable, but he takes the long way home.

The second bay of the two-car garage is empty. Ed pulls the Cutlass into its berth, shuts it off, and triggers the garage door to shut. The slow-rolling thunder of the automatic door closing behind him masks Ed’s sudden weeping.

It’s a brief jag, and Ed backhands the tears away, draws a long breath, and pushes open the car door, banging it, as he so often does, into the plastic Costco closet.

Seven years and uncounted sessions with grief counselors and well-meaning clergymen haven’t erased the questions. Nor have they provided a good answer to the big one: Why?

Alice has left him a note and a sandwich, which Ed eats, even though he’s just had a BLT at Lil’s. Their bed is unmade and strangely welcoming. Ed lies down, stretching out full length on his back, staring at the ceiling with its faded water mark from the roof leak that no one can seem to fix. Alice doesn’t know when she’ll be back. She’s got the dog and she’s going to see a trainer. Ed would scoff at the idea of turning Buddy into some kind of performing bear, but the idea has gotten Alice out of the house today, and for that he’s grateful. This dog has been good for her. After it happened, Alice became this shadow woman. Most days, he can only see her outline as she goes through the motions of day-to-day living. Somehow, having this dog in the house, with his needs and his antics, has begun to put color in the old Alice.

Now he’s the one alone in the house. Even the sad presence of his wife is preferable to the loneliness of being in the house with only his thoughts to keep him company. As pleased as he is that the dog is with Alice on this critical day, Ed wishes the dog were here, keeping him company instead.